


whatever

by tomarkhello



Category: Blink-182
Genre: F/M, M/M, tomark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 14:18:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4395089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomarkhello/pseuds/tomarkhello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>highschool au of sorts</p>
            </blockquote>





	whatever

**Author's Note:**

> possibly never to be finished - as of today tomark hurts too much for me to touch this.
> 
> its a draft and i dont want to clean it up or continue working on it. there are going to be mistakes and confusing things and type-os i havent gotten around to fix. better then just letting something that ive spent fucking hours on just sitting on my computer. thanks
> 
> EDIT MAY 8 2016: I WILL BE CONTINUING THIS FIC... soon be patient

.Tom isn’t that annoying of a 15 year old. Mark's come across worse. Ever since he and the kid ended up at the same run down party in Poway, where the attendees were too drunk or stoned to hold real conversation, he’s been following him around like a duckling who had imprinted on the wrong animal; Confused but convincing himself that this was the natural thing to do.  
Okay maybe Mark was stretching the truth, it wasn’t just a party that pushed them together-- it was a dumb party game. Seven minutes in heaven. Mark really wasn’t one of those teenagers who needed party games to get his rocks off; people- of any gender, always seemed to be available whenever Mark felt he needed an itch scratched. Whatever they had down their pants; it just didn’t matter too much. A hand was a hand, a mouth was a mouth, and an orgasm was an orgasm.

It was something quite simple; they were both picked to be shoved in a closet and were allowed to do anything for seven minutes. Really, it wasn’t hard to tell the poor underclassman had a huge crush on Mark, fidgeting and blushing all throughout the party whenever Mark happened to turn his blue eyes to the boy to ask him a question or give a stupid side comment that the senior was popular for.

When they made their way to the closet and closed the door, Mark turned to the nervous boy and asked him his name.

“Tom,” Brown wide eyes and stiff shoulders now had a name.

“Well, Tom, we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” Mark started smoothly, “Hell, we don’t gotta do anything at all.” He said with a small shrug, wanting the boy to untense. Tense people made him tense; he didn’t like it.

“Uhh…. Umm,” Tom swallowed and could feel his dick filling up. Mark noticed it too.

“You want me to jack you off?” Mark said bluntly, taking a few steps towards the hunched over boy, starting to lift a hand and moving it to the front of the Tom’s pants.

Tom nodded vigorously, not trusting his mouth to say the right words or even speak at all if he were to open it. Even his nose got red when he blushed.

Mark had Tom’s pants down quickly, calloused, thick fingers around the boy’s dick. Mark brought Tom off with him clutching with surprising vigor at Mark’s shirt. Shit- was this the kids first hand job?

Tom whimpered as he came, high pitched and probably too loud for the situation they were in.

“You look ugly when you cum,” Mark stated matter-of-factly, wiping the hot release on the side of Tom’s shirt carelessly as the boy caught his breath.  
Mark then gave Tom a half smile, not waiting for a response before opening the closet door and then not fully shutting it, leaving it ajar for Tom to struggle pulling up his pants and boxers. Mark left with three minutes and forty-seven seconds to spare; he also left without asking for anything in return. Weird- he usually doesn’t do that.

\----

Sure, the kid followed him around like boat to a lighthouse; not getting too close but reaping the benefits of being around someone older. Marks casual friends raised their eyes when they saw Tom trailing him whenever they were in the same room, party, saw each other across the lunch quad—they’d ask Mark why he had a little parasite hanging around him, why he didn’t knock off the boy who walked around with his shoulders tense and square to try and look an age he wasn’t, Mark would shrug and push the questions aside. He wasn’t annoyed of the nasily-voiced 15 year old, he wasn’t quite endeared by him either, just sort of tolerated it with a flippant teenage apathy.

The company that Mark was provided (a very low effort friendship at that—Mark could brush off Tom whenever he really wanted to or something better/more interesting came up, or tell Tom to just shut the fuck up when he got too eager and obnoxious, something he could rarely do to his friends without them possibly spitting in their face) was casual and quite naturally fitting actually the more Mark thought about it. They had some hobbies in common, knew the same parts of town. Mark was partial to the times when they just hung out- just the two of them, better for some reason anyways, almost to the point of it being actually enjoyable. Mark pushed the thought to the back of his mind. Too many people complicated things, with Tom things were simple.

Well, Tom would also eagerly suck Marks dick down with very little prompting, and that was a huge incentive to continue to harbor the underage brat. Mark would have liked to think that he was just doing it for the trade-off: hanging around Mark easily got Tom’s name well known throughout his high school class (even though that wasn’t much hard in itself, Poway High isn’t much too big in itself and by senior year there are only a handful of people you aren’t on first name basis with, but whatever) as well as Mark would provide illegal substances with just a flick of a fake ID or a press of a speed dial button, which, what the hell, Mark commonly shared his simple illicit pleasures with Tom. Mark also wasn’t selfish with other things. And with all the effort Tom went through by the quite regular blow jobs he gave Mark (sloppy and experienced as they might be- Mark had listed quite a few people with more skillful mouths and tongues in his head while Tom was sucking him off), he was sure to throw Tom a bone and reach for the young boys dick lazily (always after his own orgasm of course, Mark wasn’t entirely sure that Tom wouldn’t turn tail and run after he got off and Mark mused that you could never be too safe with those sorts of things), a smile flicking across his lips as Tom eagerly responded to Mark’s touch as always. Tom did most of the work anyways, thrusting himself into Mark’s loose grip and letting out a high pitched whine at his release, which Mark was getting used to. Mark also lied: Tom didn’t look too bad when he came.

How touch felt different from a different body instead of your own hand was a strange phenomenon Mark would catch himself thinking about while he was supposed to be sleeping. Why did Tom so eagerly work his ass off to get Mark to cum with his mouth in return for a sluggish and half-heartedly handjob? Mark figured it was just the difference of scratching your own back vs. letting someone else do it for you. He rolled over and fell asleep.

\----

scene here???? possibly tom not talking??? but mark obviously talking, taking hits from a blunt while tom looks on and just provides a person so mark wouldn't look like a bum smoking w himself 

\----

Mark noticed a change first when Tom starts cracking jokes back at him when before he usually just laughs at Mark’s jokes but furthermore kept his jaw tight. It’s not a bad thing- Tom’s jokes, and Mark would be lying if he said he didn’t laugh at at least a few of them.

Now instead of the silent partnership that Tom provided, their time together began to be filled with quips of conversation. It happens gradually, between the mildly uncomfortable November days in their city in the country, where the rolling wind sweeps the moisture from the air and the sun dried hills and the dehydrated vegetation crunch satisfyingly beneath the feet of the pair of high schooler’s as they climb up the hill. Mark doesn’t know how he was talked into doing this—he hates hiking.

Tom points out the taller, boulder speckled mountains to their east that lay as a foreground to the reaching pillars of thunder clouds out in the desert. Mark comments that the storms will never make it over the mountains to sate their parched town. Tom bitterly hopes a fire is sparked and relieves them all of their suffering. Mark laughs genuinely and without second thought.

\----

They start to skateboard throughout town. Unluckily for them the cops in Poway have literally nothing else to do but try and bust teenagers so bored they have to resort to breaking the law for cheap thrills. Lucky for Mark, Tom thinks on his feet when a cop stops to question Mark, whose pockets are stuffed with as much marijuana as he could fit into them. Tom spots the cop walking up to Mark from across the street, hands on his belt and walking towards Mark with almost a strut to his step, like he knows he’s about to bust a suburban boy who's just loaded with drugs, which— to be fair, he was. Tom flings his skateboard out from underneath him.

The crash is enough to startle both Mark and the cop to look Tom’s way, and Tom’s convincing scream jerks the cop into motion as he ditches the conversation with the suspicious slinking teenager to come to the aid of the poor boy who must have at least broken something from the uproar he’s making. Right as Tom’s eyes catch Mark’s, the older boy’s eyes light up in delight as he throws down his skateboard and makes his way down to Old Pomerado. Tom could hear Mark laugh from the other side of the street.

Tom knows where Mark’s going; he’ll meet him there. 

The younger boy gambles and probably lets the cop get a little too close than he should have before leaping up from where he was clutching his supposed hurt leg, stumbling to his feet and throwing his skateboard on the ground before speeding off, the cop yelling furiously behind as both boys get away scotch free.

\----

“You didn’t have to do that,” Mark said flatly, although a smile played behind the crease of his lips.

Tom found Mark where he knew he would be: at the foot of one of Poway’s many foothills, under a tree both of them seem to fancy more than any other of the trees that sparsely decorate this side of the creek. They don’t know why they choose this tree above the others—it just felt right and they didn’t have to think much about it.

“I had it all under control,” Mark continued, emptying out his pockets on a satisfyingly large and flat white rock, one that the two of them spent countless times carefully rolling joints on. He watched Tom eye the weed, his brown eyes sparkling.

“Sure you did,” Tom sassed him, picking up a rather large nugget and wetting his lips with a small flick of his tongue before smiling at the drug and then glancing in between Mark and it.

“I did!” Mark reiterated again, squaring his shoulders and starting to get ticked off at the boy mouthing off at him. He used to never do this before, what happened?

Tom shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah you probably did,” Defusing the situation, still bending when Mark blew. “But I thought better to be safe than sorry.”

Mark deflated. Tom put himself out there to make sure Mark could have a months’ work of smoke. It was kind of sweet of him; he really didn’t have to do it.

“You’re right,” Mark pulled an already rolled blunt from the bottom of his pocket. “Wanna take a few hits with me?”

Tom nods surprised but smiles, knowing what an olive branch looks like when he sees one.

\----

They take pulls from the joint, Mark is generous when he continues to pass back and offer more hits to Tom. He on occasion shares with Tom but rarely is it so 50-50 as it is today. Mark glances at the profile of Tom from the side of his eyes. He had a dazed smile on his lips and the brackets of his braces split his teeth first whenever he snickered at nothing. Stray hairs had begun to climb down the side of his face from his sideburns, but Mark mused on the thought that Tom would probably never be able to grow a full beard. From this close Mark could see freckles smattering Tom’s slightly sunburned face (maybe Tom was always sunburned, or maybe it was just the undertone of his skin. Mark didn’t pay enough attention to him to find out).

They sat for a while there, their backs against the trunk of the live oak that seemed to choose them as much as they chose it. The dappling sunlight and slight eastward breeze from the coast seemed to mesh perfectly with their buzzing lethargic minds. Tom smacked his lips loudly and moved restlessly against the back behind him, trying to find the most comfortable position for himself. Mark didn’t know why he kept squirming—the trunk of the oak tree seemed comfortable enough to him.

Mark broke what seemed to be the stagnate grasp of time on both of them when he slid his hand over to Tom’s upper thigh. Tom rolled his head loosely to look at Mark, who was staring back, a sort of intensity glistening in his eyes.

Toms head swayed slightly as he blinked slowly at Mark. “-at,” He asked with a raise of his eyebrows, the first few letters of his question not coming through his vocal chords, as words do sometimes when it’s been awhile since the person has talked. 

“D’ya need me to help you out right now?”

“Help”-- That’s was their codeword for fooling around. Tom blowing Mark, Mark jacking Tom off, mutual masturbation—Mark doesn’t care how it was said. He didn’t care if he was gay or not, these little boxes to check off didn’t matter to him. He cared about how he felt in the situation. And Tom’s hand felt good on his dick, his mouth felt even better. If that made him gay then so be it. Mark really just couldn’t muster up enough fucks to give about it. But Tom was still weird about it. Mark didn’t push him after trying to ask him about it once. He had never seen Tom shut him down so fast, getting from the place they were about to smoke and just fucking leaving one night when the older boy asked him if he had ever been with a man. Mark surprised himself by getting up and following after the boy, an apology gushing out of his mouth before he could rein it in. It was embarrassing—Mark shouldn’t have cared that Tom was leaving and should have let him go. But he didn’t, and thankfully for Mark that was all it took to win Tom over again, the sentimental pussy (If that was the most pissed Tom was going to get at Mark and Mark could null and void all of Tom’s anger at him with just one pathetic ‘Fucking Tom I’m sorry! Get the fuck back here you asshole someone will see,’ then Mark was allowed to call Tom what he was—a sentimental pussy).

So Mark would tip toe around just saying it outright. Which was weird—because once Mark mentioned anything that alluded to wanting to be sucked off his pants would be down in no time and Tom would be falling straight down to his knees.

Mark let out a “Nah,” His hand smoothing over the bulge that was now starting to grow at Tom’s crotch. Mark gave it a squeeze; Tom’s eyes widened almost comically.

Tom’s eyes stayed wide as he watched Mark’s hands work his Dickies open. Tom usually shoved down his own pants and underwear. He pretty much did everything himself except actually put his own hand on his dick. But no, today he watched as Mark unzipped his pants and without prompting reached in to pull Tom’s waistband of his boxers down, letting his dick stand erect. The younger boys hands clenched in the hard dusty dirt below him. Tom always hated dirt under his fingernails.

But Mark had never done this before, actually put effort into the grip he had around Tom’s dick. The thought of Tom leaving once he got his rocks off rose in Mark’s mind. He shook his head—he knows Tom’ll stay. It mostly follows the same pattern as before, Tom still whines and bucks up beneath him, but this time Mark’s tight handle that he has on Tom and the twist of the wrist he would use with every upstroke is a whole different animal for the younger boy. The intensity was staggering, Tom doesn’t last very long. His eyebrows knit together and mouth drops slightly open as he comes. A flash of a smile takes over Marks facial features. He took it as a compliment to his abilities rather than the fact that Tom was a horny 15 year old.

Mark wipes Tom’s jizz on his own pantleg and watches the kid’s chest heave. He carefully tucks Tom’s spent dick back into his checkered boxers and zipped and buckles Tom’s pants up.

“What was that for?” Was asked as Tom’s inhibited, smoke-filled mind finally caught up.

Fucker. Why ask why good things happen when sometimes they just do? Why’d Tom have to question everything?

“I appreciate it,” Was all Mark could get out of his slow lips. He was referring to what happened with the cop.

Tom seemed to understand as he smiled blissfully. “Yeah, it was nothing,” He wet his lips with a swipe of a pink tongue and then swallowed before reaching over to Mark's lap, staring to undo his pants.

“Nah man,” Mark started to push away Tom’s hands, “That was just for you. Take it as a thanks.”

Tom’s eyebrows rose slightly, he understood the weed as a thanks, so what was the handjob?

Mark zipped up his own pants and rested back on the tree, sighing comfortably. Tom returned his back to the tree as well, loosened up from the release Mark gave him. Tom’s wetness still clung to Mark’s hand, making him curious.

\----

When Mark finally skates with him to Tom’s apartment down Oak Knoll road, the atmosphere around them was still weird. Now, not in the way that when Mark wanted for Tom to be dropped off and then Mark would push the boy out of him mind, never to knock on his door again. No, it was weird in a different way than that. Looser and tighter at the same time.

Maybe it was from the feeling that the sexual favors they routinely exchanged were no longer just a payment method for each other; Mark broke that unspoken rule when he reached over to Tom with no outwardly motive than to just feel Tom shudder underneath his touch. Mark tried not to linger on the ‘why’s’ of why he did what he had done. Some things tend to disappear when you don’t give them the thought. Mark hoped this was one of those things.

They kick up their skateboards by stepping on the tail end of them, and silently made their way up the cracked sidewalk to the illuminated outside stairs that lead to each apartment complex.

The situation stayed its strange course when Tom suddenly shoved Mark up against a stuccoed wall. Mark gasped at the scratchy wall at his back, a flash of anger hit him and he was ready to start swinging at the boy because it seemed that he had lost his mind—Tom had never pushed Mark around like that.

As Mark’s mouth gaped opened and closed, trying to form words on what the hell Tom was doing, the boy stared intently at Mark, and Mark swore he was thinking about kissing him. That would have certainly earned a foot in Tom’s tight virgin ass.

For the better of Tom’s charmingly unblemished boyish face, he seemed to think that was a dumbfuck of an idea and dropped to his knees instead, furiously working at the button and zipper of Mark’s jeans, pulling them down and getting at Mark’s underwear with a speed that thoroughly impressed the senior.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Mark sounded surprisingly pissed for a person with such eager lips that close to his dick. “I said don’t worry about it,” A wide palm was placed on Tom’s forehead, effectively pushing the kids head back from Mark’s half hard dick (hey—Mark’s still a teenager too; anything breathing hot on his dick is bound to at least get it mildly interested). “It was a freebie.” And a good one at that, Mark thought bitterly. Why couldn’t Tom just let things be? Take them as they are? Why wouldn’t Tom listen to him?

Tom huffed impatiently. They were still standing in the overhang of quiet a well-lit apartment complex. Granted it was a weeknight and probably somewhere around 1 in the morning, it still made Tom’s adrenal glands flood his blood and make him jittery and nervous at the thought of being caught. He knew he could be fast though—as long as Mark didn’t keep holding him back.

Tom wet his lips and swallowed before starting: “No Mark, you don’t understand,” Another swallow; the words stuck in his throat like bones. He was shameful he ate meat. “I want to do this.”

Okay, shit. Bombshell of a statement in a place where if Mark were to start kicking this boy's ass he would have the cops called on him. You just don’t say things like that. He wondered if Tom chose this place for that reason.

“I don’t feel obligated to, this one’s just for you too- a freebie.” The rest of Tom’s speech fell straight from his mouth in a rush; he saw the warning signs of a blow out and worked quickly to soothe Mark’s nerves.

Mark thought for a few moments. Thought about the thrill of where he was and about the teenager poised readily on his knees for him. “You’re damn lucky you have a pretty face,” Was all Mark finally said as he took his palm off of Tom’s forehead, lightly smacking the side of Tom’s face twice. The dark haired kid’s neck straightening out again as he faced Mark’s cock.

When Tom got down to it, Mark had to admit, the boy had improved (It would be a miracle if he didn’t, actually, because who doesn’t improve on something they practice every day?). Maybe not triumphantly standing in the position of number one cocksucker, but there were a pleasant amount of moments where Mark was able to get lost in the warm feeling of Tom’s mouth. Small sounds in the forms of moans or gasps or the breath being pushed out of him that Tom smiled and hummed happily at, feeling pride rise in him. Tom was still the sloppiest in terms of wetness Mark’s ever had, and he doesn’t think that is going to ever go away.

When Mark was close, he bit his lip and pulled at Tom’s hair knowingly-- hell the teenager was getting his dick sucked whenever he wanted, the least he could do was be polite when it was happening. Mark didn’t care that Tom never swallowed, he was fine with the image of Tom furiously stroking him to completion, Tom’s parted lips spit-slick and panting from the effort of trying to swallow as much as Mark's’ cock as possible.

And wow. Fist in mouth to muffle Mark’s moan when he came and rhythmically convulsing, he was surprised to find a mouth still lightly attached to the head of his dick.

Wait—What the fuck?

Mark wanted to freak out a little. Push Tom away in disgust but that orgasm shook him quite hard and he didn’t feel like he has the strength (Even if he did have the strength, he’s not sure he could have even yelled at the boy when Tom’s lips left Mark’s cock and a string of cum and spit drooped in-between Tom’s lips and the head of Mark’s penis—that felt like his lungs had been stepped on as he exhaled sharply at the image). Mark blinked consecutively. Okay, okay, he didn’t think Tom was hot, he thought blowjobs were hot (although his blowjobs were starting to get pretty damn good).

Mark steadied himself with a hand to the coarse wall. Tom looked up at him from his knees, tongue returning to slightly pull along the slit of Mark’s penis. Mark let out a whimper—fuck he was too sensitive for that shit, he wanted to pull Tom’s hair out.

Tom eyes sparkle with coy amusement as he continued to hold Mark's gaze.

“You usually don’t make sounds like that,” Tom rested back on his heels, wiping the back of his arm across his mouth.

Shit—did Mark let out some sort of noise?

His mouth gaped open and tried to speak words that weren’t even formed in his head yet. Tom stood up and—yeah, okay, the freshman is really quite taller than one would think when he’s this close.

“Okay,” Mark ran his hand through his hair and let out a heavy breath, “That’s enough… you were good,” He’s never given a compliment like that to Tom before.

Tom’s smirk grew wider, the imp knew he did a good job, Mark didn’t have to tell him that when the evidence of just how good he was was evident in Mark’s obviously bitten bottom lip and flushed cheeks (and the pathetic sounds he obviously made as he was coming, unbenounced to Mark).

“Yeah?” Damn boy was getting cocky on Mark now. 

Mark twitched in Tom’s hands as he placed Mark back into his boxers and zipped him up. And now as Tom glanced back up at Mark, a softer look came over his eyes, like he was again contemplating on how Mark’s red bitten lips would feel pressed against his own.

Mark shoved him away by the shoulders, panic rising in his chest at the look Tom was giving him. “Goodnight Tom.”

Unfazed by Mark’s physical outburst and with a smirk still half on his face, Tom turned his neck to watch Mark briskly walk away, slowly sliding out of the orange illuminated streetlight into the gray of the night. He dropped his skateboard down, breaking the silence of the suburbs with each rhythmic clack of the wheels on the sidewalk panels. Smacking his lips a little with the taste of Mark still fresh in his mouth, Tom watched Mark until he turned a corner into the night.  
Mark never looked back. He can’t believe Tom had swallowed.

\----

Weirdly enough things didn’t change much between them. Tom still periodically looked at Mark with soft eyes during intimate moments such as Mark lighting his blunt for him. Which really wasn’t what Mark would consider intimate, he just chalked it up to Tom’s little crush on him flaring itself up again after laying in dormancy.

What did change was the fact that Tom started to show up without prompting from Mark. Mark would have considered it overstepping if he was still the person he was a few months ago. (Not that Mark thought he had really changed—getting routine head as well as never smoking alone again couldn’t have done much.) With little reluctance, Mark accepted the fact that maybe they were just becoming genuine friends. Maybe not the most traditional of friends in the most traditional way of becoming friends, but Tom still knocked at his door uninvited like friends tended to do. He might have got on his knees faster than most friends would with little to no convincing, but other than that they were still just friends.

Tom was still much younger then him. Four years of age was a lot to work with (Mark went into kindergarten a year late, a mistake on his mom's fault but otherwise no harm really done) and sometimes he wondered what he was doing with the adolescence, why he was still even messing around with a kid still in braces.

Friends. Mark would swallow weirdly around the word and never mention it to Tom.

\----

Winter brought showers, as it always does. It sucked for Tom and Mark, as now most of their pastimes became obsolete as the light but steady rain continued to fall. School was in full swing, Mark cant remember the last time he had hung out with someone outside of Tom. Two or three weeks probably-- he couldn't pinpoint exactly. What could he say, the boy was easy to get along with, respected Mark’s wishes and overall followed his orders. Everyone else sort of of fell away when it came to Tom. 

It was Tom's birthday and they were bumming around in Mark garage, Mark lounging around with his favorite bass cradled in his lap and Tom sitting criss-cross on the floor with a new acoustic. The cake and festivities were over, Tom didn't invite really anyone, so it was mostly Mark and Tom's family. Tom wore a dark colored short sleeve, a long sleeved white shirt underneath. His dickies came down a little farther than his knees and his shoes worn from skateboarding were accompanied by off-white socks (well they probably at least started out as white) pulled up to his mid calf. Mark thought he looked kind of cute. Hot, really. He physically shook his head to clear his mind of the thought.

Mark enjoyed the deep notes of the bass in tangent with the higher register of the guitar that Tom plucked his fingers across. Tom always seemed to lean towards the higher register, it would piss Mark off sometimes. Today, it sounded crisp and clear. 

“Why don’t you ever suck me off?”

What was up with Tom’s sentences hitting Mark like a bag of bricks lately?

Thoughts flood Mark’s mind: I’m the older one, you should be glad you even get anything in return. Because we aren’t a thing. It’s not like we love each other- we're not dating-- your dick is ugly and sort of small and I don’t like the way it curves to the side it kind of grosses me out.

“What the fuck Tom!?” Is all that comes out.

Tom can immediately see he’s overstepped and his figure shrinks in on itself. He curses himself inwardly for letting his mouth speak so freely. The garage is eerily silent and Mark continues to stare at Tom with heavily knitted eyebrows until Tom glances down and away from Mark, studying the dusty concrete floor. The silence continues to weigh on Tom as he physically caves in on himself and subconsciously hunches his shoulders, trying to get smaller. He’s submitting to Mark.

Time feels like it's stretching itself out longer just to torture Tom and remind him that he’s a child and all around make him feel awful. It seemed to wait until Tom made his move, crawling over on his knees pitifully towards Mark, until it resumed its normal pace. Mark still eyed him with disdain, wondering if he should keep fueling the angry fire Tom had sparked or to just let it die out as wide, sorry, brown eyes looked up at him between his legs.

Tom shyly rubbed a hand against the inside of Mark’s knee, a kicked dog coming back to its owner.

Mark's face shifted slightly as his chest filled up with something tentatively soft. He decided to accept Tom’s physical apology. He relaxed in the armchair, facial and jaw muscles unclenching all the way as he leaned back and twitched his legs open a little wider, accommodating Tom. He carefully placed his bass on the ground to lean on the worn faux leather chair.

Tom easily picked up on the signs that his apology was accepted; that he was approved to move on with what he was offering up to Mark. The hand on Mark’s knee trailed up his thigh, and then another joined the first hand at the front of Mark’s pants, making methodical work of the button and zipper, the waistband of the flat gray boxers. Mark was already more than half hard; the bastard probably got a kick out of seeing Tom submissively crawling towards his open legs. Mark wouldn't deny it if he was asked.

Mark’s familiar scent hit him as he rubbed his cheek across the length of Mark. Silent and on his knees, the boy waited there, breathing against Mark’s taunt skin. This was part of the apology: waiting for Mark to say it was okay to actually start.

Still sitting mute, Mark watched Tom with slightly pursed lips, like he was actually considering denying Tom from blowing him (he wasn't. he's horny not stupid). Tom held his gaze; he knew his superior was—hell-- he was on his knees for him right now. Mark had no need to worry about Tom trying to be dominant. Tom didn't need to back down and look away given the position he was already in. Tom blinked slowly. Mark felt smug. 

Seeing his fill, Mark nodded once."Mhm," he grunted out, (Forgiven, Tom thought with a slight exhale) and that was all the younger boy needed before he wet his lips and got to work.

Mark’s hands fell softly to Tom’s hair with an accompanied groan as Tom silently bobbed his head.

The last few times the dark haired boy had been on his knees for Mark, he learned from his mistake and never swallowed since. He’s known Mark’s signs that he was close (twitchy hands and a loud, quick, hitching breath) for a while now, and put them to use to be sure that he wouldn't get the same shocked look from Mark that he got the time Tom took Mark’s load in his mouth. As Mark neared the end Tom checked each sign off in his head before popping his head from Mark’s dick and moving his hands to replace his mouth.

Mark’s hands tightened in Tom’s hair, almost painfully. "No," Was Mark whining? "Please," Yeah that was definitely Mark the closest Tom has ever heard to him begging. “I-- Your mouth,”

Tom hesitantly wrapped his lips around Mark's head again. Was this what he wanted? Did Tom hear him correctly? Mark's keen was answer enough for him as he started to work the tip of his cock once more. If it was possible to smile around a dick, Tom would.

Mark pulsed inside Tom’s mouth and gasped out his name. Once Mark’s brain started to communicate coherently with itself again, it wondered why in the hell it ever denied itself of this before.

Still hazy with post orgasm, Mark lazily watched Tom clean up, giving a last few soft careful (Mark hesitated to use the describing word ‘loving’ but that’s how they were leaning towards) licks to Mark before wiping a glistening wetness off from his chin – Mark’s semen or Tom’s saliva, most likely a mixture of both. It stirred something akin to hunger inside the older boy even though he should have felt sated. Mark swallowed.

Pushing himself to sit upright in the chair, Mark cleared his throat.

“Take off your pants.” His voice still sounded a little hoarse.

Tom sighed loudly as he pulled on Mark’s pants, buttoning them in the front after pulling his boxers up over his dick. Tom placed a hand on the top of Mark’s knee to heave himself upward and got on his feet. He glanced down at Mark.

“Nah its fine,” He lifted a hand slightly to blow off the request. “I’m not feeling like it today,”

Mark frowns slightly. Surely his hand jobs weren’t getting that boring.

“Whaddaya mean?” Concern leaks through Mark’s words and he winces at himself for allowing him to care. “Is it your parents again?” He watches Tom turn from him and make his way to the acoustic he left lying on the floor.

Tom hums a negative sound and shakes his head once while he sits down and grasps for the guitar, the wood dragging across the ground and the vibrations of the movement twanging at the strings as the sounds fill the air. Tom pulls it into his lap. His fingers go back to the neck of the guitar with a practiced movement as he plays. A slower song begins to form and Mark wonders how long it is until the divorce is filed. A small dull ache gathered and clenched behind Mark's chest.What a great end to Tom's birthday. 

\----

It's a couple months until graduation when things start to slide out Mark's control. 

Mark feels weird when Tom comes to him telling him about a girl that makes Tom's mind reel. He shifts from the concrete steps he's on, watching Tom ollie with a ease that comes with hours of practice (Mark knows, he was there for most of them). 

An endless stream of words come from Tom’s mouth, Mark is vaguely listening and then his interests peaks when his tone of voice changes to something softer. 

"... she's sort of taller but not taller than me, obviously, and she like, does--"

"Who is this?" Mark interrupts

Tom makes a face. "Were you even listening?" No, Mark wasn't.

Tom continues without letting Mark respond. "This girl in my freshman bio class. She was in it first semester but we didn't really talk." The tilt of the ground along with gravity is slight but still able to draw Tom’s skateboard to one side, Tom being pulled with it. 

Tom reaches to scratch the back of his neck. "I don't know, I think she likes me?" His voice raised up at the end with uncertainty, hand falling back to the other and he looks down and picks at his fingernails. "We’ve been sitting together for lunch for like a week now and she's really cool, also pretty funny..." 

Mark zoned out again, his attention span wavering as something ugly beings to carve a small but deep hole in his gut. He doesn't want to hear about the girl that Tom is talking about, a girl who makes Tom jerky in his movements and words. What was the weight Mark feeling in his stomach? Jealous like a significant other? No. Possessive like a thing. (at least that's what he repeats this over in his mind.) Mark’s mood sours. 

He blankly stares at Tom while he keeps talking, sometimes animatedly waving his arms in the space beside him and sometimes bringing his hands in and getting small and almost embarrassed gestures. Nothing else brings Mark's attention to conscience level of what Tom is talking about, Mark just watches him with a general swirl in his gut, a mixture of arousal and possessiveness and other odds and ends that have Mark questioning why they are present. 

Soon enough it seems as if Tom has run out of things to talk about. He steps off his skateboard and promptly sits on it, moving himself from side to side by pushing on the concrete with his feet. He looks at Mark expectantly. 

"What?” Mark asks 

"Dude," Tom says exasperatedly, his shoulders dropping a little when he realizes that Mark probably wasn't listening to him at all throughout that whole spiel. "I asked what was up with you recently," 

Oh. Mark straightened his back for a second, thinking briefly about his shitty posture and how he should try and sit straight. 

"Mostly just college applications. Really stressful shitty stuff," Really stressful was an understatement. This was the rest of Mark's life resting on these few applications and hours of work. Or at least Mark believed it would be the decision for the rest of his life. However important the applications were or were not, it didn't stop Mark from wanting to pull his hair out thinking about it. 

"I don't really want to talk about it," Mark confessed, feeling exhausted, and stupid, and defeated. His back slumped to its prior position-- fuck good posture. 

Mark had picked Tom up in his car and drove him to a skate place (he discovered this months before they met but Mark had no one to go with) to hide away from this overwhelming feeling of insignificance Mark had whenever he merely thought about college. And all Tom was doing is making him talk about it more. Mark didn't have the energy to muster up any sort of anger towards the boy though. Tom walked over to perch on the broken cinder block wall Mark was sitting on. Mark's hand itched for a cigarette. 

Tom was sitting so close his heat could be felt between the two layers of fabric between the boys shoulders. His rough elbow poking the side of Mark’s thigh as Tom rested his hands over the gap between his gangly legs. They really had no limits to personal space when it came to one another anymore. Mark could smell the freshly reapplied deodorant on Tom-- it was Mark’s deodorant, he started keeping a spare stick of it in his car because too often Tom reeked after they went skating combine with the lingering smell of adolescence. (Tom once complained that he didn't like the smell of Mark’s deodorant. He made sure to pick a different smell the next day, telling himself all the way home he just needed a change.) Mark shifted and pressed the entire length of his thigh to toms.

"What do you want to do then?" Tom turned his head completely to look at Mark. Mark could see bright brown eyes from his peripherals, shining with a false innocence and a hint of mischief. It was a coded question. one large sweeping general question that truly hinted at only one thing. An open door. An offering for a free (well almost free) blowjob, every teenage boys dream! Of course Mark wanted that-- when did Mark ever not want that.

But did Tom still want that? Even if he had just talked Mark’s ear off about a prospective girlfriend for so long the older boy zoned out? 

"We don't have to do anything." Mark shook his head, then glanced at Tom to hold his gaze.

Tom’s face flickered in a frown for a split second, eyebrows and mouth twitching down simultaneously before returning to their normal position. Mark hated himself for thinking about the girl Tom was talking about being this physically close to Tom, (feeling the heat down his leg where Tom’s leg was touching his, being able to count his curled eyelashes, the blotched teenage skin of Tom that Mark noticed wasn't from the sun, it was just because Tom moves around so much: running, skating, flailing his arms in an attempt to make a joke) but he did. He thought about how she obviously liked the boy, (Mark knew people well enough and whatever Tom’s description of how she acted that he actually listened to was on a tee with the classic ‘freshman girl with a crush’) He thought about how Tom was smart enough to take actions as soon as he was smart enough to figure out that the chick actually dug him (the shaking fingers Tom would have while taking control, wrapping around to the back of her chest to grasp and pull at the hooks of her bra). He thought about the pressures of high school to be cool and grown up and have sex like they see grown ups do on the big screen or late night tv (he thought about how he once longed to be an adult, to act like an adult, to make adult decisions and rule his own life and have respect. But right now wasn't the time for introspection.) He thought about the girl initiating sex and how malleable Tom was and how eager Tom was to please (Tom falling to his knees in front of Mark with just a look-- Tom between the girls thighs with just a look). He thought about Tom’s bareback and naked legs hooked around his waist (how his muscles would tense and roll), he thought about the faces Tom would make when he came (a beautiful contortion, Mark would know). He thought about the heavy kisses they would share in the heat of the moment (how Tom would kiss, Mark wouldn’t know) he thought about the light kisses they would share after the fact (Mark thought maybe Tom would kiss soft, and warm, and yielding) he thought about kissing Tom himself.

And he kissed Tom. 

Mark didn't know if Tom was expecting it, given that Mark would narrow his eyes at the boy every time Tom would so little as glance at Mark’s lips and lick his own chapped ones subconsciously, so Mark was safe in his belief that Tom had come to terms with anything above the waist with his weird friend with benefits is written off.

Mark could hear Tom’s intake of breath through his nose. His lips stayed tight up until he relaxed. Mark noted how Tom’s lips felt against his, small, chapped-- but warm, malleable as they melted into his own. They moved with a uncertainty when Mark tilted his head slightly, like -- like this was his first kiss.

Mark broke the kiss abruptly. it wasn't anything opened-mouthed, not like how Mark usually kisses, easily tumbling into a mess of tongues and teeth. Because this was with Tom and Mark was now pretty sure this was his first kiss. Tom’s first kiss. 

Things that Tom are or do keep hitting Mark so hard he feels like his lungs are being wrung out. 

"Was that your first kiss?" Mark couldn't help but ask bluntly. If he would have tried to ask it any other way the words wouldn't be able to crawl from his tight chest and over vocal chords. 

From a few inches in front of him, Tom’s head nodded, lips slightly parted and eyes wide in what had just happened. 

A rush of victory flashes through Mark. He's the first. Good. That girl couldn't have this moment with Tom. His smirking smile turns into something more of a soft reassurance before he leans in the space and kisses Tom again. 

Tom’s still tenses against Mark as he moves his lips modestly, warming Tom's still lips to the feeling and rhythm of a kiss. Why Mark doesn't take what he wants that's beginning to brew deep in his gut and shove his tongue as far as he pleases into Tom's mouth, (knowing that Tom will twist and bend into uncomfortable positions for him,) he doesn't know. Mark can feel Tom continue to relax into him, until Tom shyly kisses him back. A thrill goes down Mark spine. 

Mark swipes the tip of his tongue slowly across the bottom of Tom’s. He then opens up his mouth slightly, bringing Tom's lips with him as a rush of air is expelled from his mouth. Mark kisses slowly down on Tom's lower lip, wanting to devour him but staving off his hunger for the sake of the inexperienced boy.

Tom's lips stay motionlessly parted; just a way for oxygen to be exchanged until he hesitantly drops his lips onto Mark's upper one. Mark almost chuckled, Tom's mouth easily ready to suck cock but so timid with the taste of another's lips. For all Toms obvious want to kiss the elder, once he had the opportunity (metaphorically thrown in his lap and literally thrown at his face) he seemed uncertain--or he just didn't want to mess it up. It was different then a dick; they're stationary, don't really touch back. With kissing though, it made Tom nervous knowing that Mark could directly act back. Tom could feel the experience lingering behind Mark, his little tricks that used to make all the boys and girls swoon and was a one-way ticket to a hand down their pants.

Mark lightly sucks at Tom’s lower lips lip for a moment, swiping his tongue with more confidence across his captured lip. Tom's mouth falls open more with a small sound and Mark smiles before releasing Tom’s lips and turning his head and deepening the kiss, licking into Tom's mouth. 

Tom reacts and his tongue moves experimentally against Mark's. Marks tongue brushes across teeth and he is reminded how young Tom is from the rough bumps of his braces. He then slides his tongue against Tom’s reluctant one. The freshman shudders and bashfully chases Mark’s tongue. Mark slides his hand up and grips the back of Tom's head. Tom's mouth falls even farther open as Mark starts so ease himself into his normal ravenous rhythm. 

Tom beings to mindlessly kiss Mark with a growing confidence. Tom tastes of dehydration- like the land he was living upon, but also, strangely enough, of a wet darkness- a musk, not too dark, more like a gray; like a boy. The senior tastes of faint cigarettes that he tapped ash out of outside of a moving car on their way here, and dry air, dusty but still somehow sharp and clean; like a man. His hands wander to the older boys body, a hand lightly ghosting over Mark's thigh-- still afraid to touch. The heat of Mark’s hand sears through his shorts on his inner thigh, the other hand grasping for a hold at Tom’s surprisingly soft thin auburn hair tightens. Tom’s face screws up at the feeling and he let's out a whimper. 

Mark hums dangerous and low, a pleasing feeling brewing at the forced sound. His teeth sink down on Tom’s bottom lip and he pulls. Tom’s hand clenches and fists down on Mark’s thigh with the feeling, his leg muscle of slightly shifting underneath. Mark opens his mouth; lets the lip he was holding snap back into place and leans away to watch Tom pant slightly, lips red and slick, brown eyes still closed. 

Tom’s eyes blearily blinks open, like being awoken in a place you had no recollection of falling asleep. 

Mark smiles at him. And there's no feeling of victory or conquest or the heady feeling of being able make someone submit behind the gesture present anymore. Those sentiments have melded into something else. He likes how warm and careful Tom’s lips were, he just likes how Tom looks after the fact, he likes that he was the one to make him feel that way. 

Tom smiles carefully back for a few heartbeats and promptly gets embarrassed, leaning his head down to rest against Mark's shoulder and hiding his face. 

The hand that was on Tom’s head slides down to the nape of his neck, slowly rubbing his soft, albeit slightly damp from sweat (could you blame Tom? With skateboarding and Poway pushing the mid 90 degrees mark it was inevitable) skin with slow circles. Mark’s had this boy on his knees and his head between his thighs, but he can't help but think upon how this is the most intimate moment he's shared with Tom-- head resting heavily on Mark’s shoulder, hand rubbing soothing motions on Tom’s neck. He could see the risen cheeks that betrayed Tom's smile from the angle Mark looked down at him. He felt the need to kiss the top of Tom’s head.

A jarring thought entered Mark’s mind: that wasn't a release, so then what was it? 

His hand stops moving subconsciously as the troubling thought wedges itself deeper into Mark’s brain. Tom took the lack of motion as a sign he should lift his head from leaning against him.

Shy eyes met Mark’s blue ones, careful in a way that Tom knows this was uncharted territory-- a place where Tom never thought he would actually get to, sharing such a close moment within Mark's personal space. They weren't doing anything, just enjoying each other. He sat beside Mark, waiting for an explosion or a dismissal or anything in between. 

Mark gave a light but not unkind smile and lifted himself from the uneven cinderblocks he was sitting on. His hand on Tom’s thigh smoothed down to the boys knee, hesitant in a way that hinted at regret that Mark had to move his hand from its comfortable resting place. Tom's eyes followed him as he made his way to his skateboard, bending down to grab it and then picking up Tom's skateboard as well. 

Mark lifted Tom’s skateboard at him. Tom stood up, his knees a little shaky, and walked to grasp his skateboard from Mark's hands, warmed by his small act of kindness. It was a big deal to Tom. 

It's late and they make their way to Mark's car with an unsaid agreement that it was time to go home. The silence between the two teenage boys isn't awkward or unwanted. In fact, Tom actually enjoyed the comfortable peacefulness the still air had after such an strange event. A warm vibration continues to settles between them as they drive down the street. The asphalt that the sun had warmed tirelessly throughout the day had begun to give off the heat it had held onto with the cooling of the night. 

Mark’s dropped a hand from the steering wheel, casually placing it on the communal armrest/storage place that was between the driver and the passenger's seat. Tom’s hand laid beside Mark’s. The older boys hand slid over slightly, and Tom’s fingers twitched as he turned his head and took in with a muted surprise Mark's pinky and ring finger resting loosely and casually over the back of Tom's own hand. They burned into his skin much like how they did when they were resting on his thigh. Tom wondered if Mark’s skin reacted with his own in some harmful way to create such a heat and if something like that was actually organically possible. He spared a quick look at Mark, observing his sloped nose and curved jawline, straight line of his mouth. The side of his face betrayed no tellings of a joke, that this was a stunt and the older boy wanted to see a reaction. Mark’s eyes flickered at Tom from the corner of his eye for a second before turning his attention once more to the road.

Neither of the boys moved their hands for the duration of the ride to Tom’s apartment. Mark’s grip might have even tightened against Tom’s fingers, might have slid over so that more of his hand was over Tom’s, too. Maybe even his whole hand over Tom’s by the time they were at the younger boy’s apartment complex. Tom wouldn't let himself think about it. 

Tom pulled his hand away first, out of necessity to reach in back for his skateboard. Mark watched Tom’s pale neck stretching in the effort to reach for it. Little moles scattered the column of his neck--spaced out stars in a suburban night sky. Mark thought about other places on Tom he hasn't explored. 

Tom let out a brace filled smile as he thanked Mark for the ride and clambered out of the compact car. He leaned back into the open window to say bye again and Mark felt his lips pulls upward and face soften as Tom giggled and pushed off the dented door with his hands. 

Mark watched Tom walk away with what he thought was a little bounce in his step. He took the stairs two at a time up to his apartment. 

Mark pulled at the shift lever of the car so it lurched into reverse. He backed out and started to make his way home. His mind blanked as the commonality of driving a car sank into his bones and allowed his mind to drift. There were so many things for Mark to be thinking about but he thought about Tom. He thought only of Tom. 

\--

The next time Mark picked Tom up from his place, Mark decided to take him to in-and-out. Tom kept shoving money into Mark's hand when they pulled up to the drive through, but Mark didn't take it. Its not like he had money to throw around, he just wanted to do something that normal friends did for once. Like paying for their friends meal. Normal friends did that right?

They dicked around for a while by ordering the food all while trying to keep a terrible english accents which at the tail end of every sentence kept sound more Indian than anything else. Tom swears they spat in their food but his mouth waters when his cheeseburger is passed to him. 

After the buzz of laughing at the fact that whatever poor soul working the drive through had to ask the pair three times over again what exactly they wanted, they tucked into their food and Mark listened to Tom giggling between bites while still thinking about it. 

The food completely lost it's flavor when Tom talked about how the he had kissed that girl-- Jen, as Mark finally payed attention enough to figure out her name. Mark chewed mindlessly as he tried his best to look happy or surprised or whatever emotion you're supposed to have when your friend had told you huge exciting news about a girl. Mark ended up probably looking strained as Tom asked if the burger was okay because Mark looked like he was going to be sick. 

Mark swallowed the burger down and was surprised that is made it's way around the lump (probably his heart) in his throat. 

"No, the burger is," He cleared his throat, "it's fine. I just swallowed wrong for a sec." 

"Oh." Tom looked (thankfully) satisfied with that explanation. "Mark, it was CRAZY though! Her lips were so soft, she smelled so good and-- Have you ever kissed a girl before?" 

Mark gave Tom a look. It took a few seconds before Tom registered what he had said. 

He threw his head back and laughed. "Oh my god I'm stupid," Tom said, still chuckling. 

The freshman dragged a bundle of French fries and shoved them into his mouth. "How's that going anyway?" He said around his mouthful of food. Tom was referring to Mark's own love life. "I'm sure you have had some new crazy sex stories that you haven't told me," 

Mark doesn't. 

"Uh... actually not really." He decided to be truthful. Not that Mark hadn't had his opportunities, Emily with her bedroom eyes from across the hall, dragging her finger across Mark's arm as she walked by him; drunk Joshua hanging off of Mark as he brought him out of a busted party to his friend's car, slurring his words telling Mark how many times he's thought about Mark behind him pressing him up against a dirty wall and-- Mark stopped listening after that. He just... didn't care anymore. Something was different. His apathy for other people seemed endless and only growing. Was he depressed? He didn't think so. 

"What?!" Tom looked appalled. "Are you kidding me? No hot alien babe sucked you off in a rocketship while her alien parents were watching a movie in the next room?" Tom gestures wildly with a ketchup smeared French fry. A drop of the tomato red sauce landed on his bent knee. Tom wiped it with his finger and brought it up to his mouth.

Mark picked off the lettuce on his burger to not stare obscenely at Tom sucking his own finger, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. Fuck he needed to get laid soon; set him straight.

"Tom, that was just a girl with bigger than average tits." Mark scoffed, still looking down at his half eaten food, amused at the boys exaggerated excitement. "And she didn't suck me off with her parents still in her house, they went out for a movie." And that happened also a very long time ago. Too long by Marks standards.

Tom shrugged with a finger still in his mouth before he took it out with a pop. Mark tried not to cringe at the sound. “And then she sucked you off,” Tom said with a smirk. Mark let out an exasperated sigh at Tom’s need to be right. "That's still hot." Tom smacked his lips (the sound used to tick Mark off but now it's just rubbing him wrong in a different way). "And you're telling me you haven't gotten any since then?" 

Mark raised his eyebrows and looked at Tom with a slight tilt to his head. 

A wide smile overtook Tom's face until it broke out in a few short laughs in disbelief. "Wait, wait, way-way-way-way wait.” He shook his hands and bowed his head at Mark. Glancing up again, he looked up at Mark expectantly, waiting for the teenager to slap his knee and laugh about how Tom almost believed that he hadn’t been laid in a few months. It never came. 

Tom’s face grew more incredulous. "Are you telling me as of now I'm getting more than Mark fucking Hoppus?" Tom thought the subject was hilarious, Mark sighed and knocked his head against the door frame of the car and kept it there. 

Tom scoffed loudly, rustling around in his fast food bag, he still couldn’t believe that this wasn’t a joke. Mark straightened up in his chair after a few moments. 

"Yeah, yeah," Mark wiped his face with a napkin, then crumpled it and threw it at Tom. "Keep it down, you're yelling." 

"Oh am I being too loud?" Tom's eyes glittered as he spotted a couple coming out of the restaurant and leaned his whole upper half of his body out the window. "I'M GETTING MORE ASS THEN MARK HOPPUS!" He yelled at the unassuming pedestrians. Mark couldn't help but throw his head back and laugh at their startled and scandalized faces.

"Technically you've gotten no ass so far,” Mark quipped back after his hitching laughs calmed down. “Just a little few wittle kisses," He mocked in a baby voice.

Tom brought himself fully back in the car and let out a "humph." He eyes the rest of his cooling fries before a smirk starts to form on his face before he looks back up at Mark. "They weren't just little, AND I got some under the shirt action." He stuffs some fries in his mouth, quirking his eyebrows up and down while chewing with his mouth open and a smug look on his face. 

Something quivered lower in his chest. He dropped his gaze and forced himself to take a bite of his burger, giving him some time to react and pull himself the fuck together. "Ohhhh," he swallowed his too-big-of-a-bite, it hurt as it slid past his heart. "Big man on campus," He teased, feeling slightly blue. Overcast with a 20% chance of rain. 

Tom ignored Marks taunt and looked out the window dreamily, a full sun day, high of 78. "They're nice boobs," He sighed wistfully. 

Mark hummed in half agreement, having not really ever seeing the girl but by the way Tom talked about her she must be quite an impressive person (impressive enough to attract the attention of Tom, who Mark admitted was interesting enough in himself. Must be a really special girl.)"Did you get a boner?" He teased. 

The answer was indicative as Tom groaned out an embarrassed: "Ugh Markkkk" and his hands flew into his face to hide the red that creeped up from the collar of his white shirt up into his face. 

Mark allowed the feeling of mirth to break through his clouds as he watched Tom squirm from embarrassment. 

“Ya gotta learn how to control that shit, hide it so it doesn’t scare anyone away, bring it out only when the time is right.” Mark mused.

“When is that?” Tom asked earnestly, looking up from his hands. "'The time is right'? Are you talking about sex?" His eyes widened marginally. 

Mark shook his head in a negative. As a verbal answer he hummed vaguely. 

They dropped off the topic to other subjects: the weird mole on Tom's arm, Mark's new baseline that they had no idea what they could build around it, the ending of school and if they would forget each other. (They laughed. 'Of course I will forget you,' Mark would say. 'It's uncool enough that I'm a senior hanging out with a freshman, just imagine me in college hanging out with a high schooler.' Tom smiled lightly and Mark returned it. They both pushed graduation to the back of their mind and didn't mention it again.)

When it was time to leave, Mark opened the drivers door and got out. 

"My car stinks enough with you hanging around it everywhere I go." He remarked as an explanation, stuffing all his trash in the take out bag. 

He made his way around to Tom's side and leaned through the window as Tom did the same (throwing his rappers and used ketchup packets into the bag, avoiding touching the wet spots of grease and ketchup), and handed over his bag and sofa cup, the latter sweating with condensation. Mark grabbed the bag from him and gripped the empty cup, his fingers slightly brushing across Toms as the cup was gently taken from him. 

Mark let a slight smile slip from his lips at Tom as he then turned and made his way to the outside trash can. He walked back from the brown trash can and slipped inside the driver's seat, turning on the ignition. 

(Driving to Tom's place, the question nagged in the back of Mark's throat, needing to be said. “So are you dating her?” He asked flatly as they pulled up to the side of the road for Tom to get out. He couldn't fein any other convincing emotion that didn't betray the raw feelings that throbbed inside of him so he went with none. He flicked his blinker on to show that he was letting someone out. 

“Yeah.” Tom said quietly, after a few moments. Like he didn't want Mark to ask that question in the first place. 

Nothing else was said. Tom avoided Mark’s eye as he exited his car, closing the door behind him. Mark didn't wait to watch him walk up the steps before he drove away. 

Mark felt so lost, he was surprised he could pick his way home.)

As Tom was dropped off he was overly aware of the conversation that had been held, the actions that had been taken, the slack emotions coming from Mark, the touch of his hands as he handed off his trash to Mark. The unused money weighed heavily in his pocket. 

He entered the living room his mom and sister were watching the weatherman talk about a tropical storm in central america. His sister was worried about the rain that was predicted to come over the week. Their mother assured them that weather is fickle and we might not ever be able to forecast for tomorrow today isn't always true. that we have to be there in that moment to see if it's actually raining. That we also have to live in today and not worry about next weeks weather. 

seeing the sky with our own eyes.  
with complete accuracy what tomorrow's weather will be like until the sun rises and we can see the sky with our own eyes.

Tom thought about Mark. Things with the older boy were complicated; they used to be quite simple but the lines are muddying with time. Tom wished he could untangle them somehow. Unravel Mark's mind and just see what his words spelled out. Tom wished the weather was predictable. 

the hot rain came pouring down from the trees 

The rain never came.  
The rain didn't come that week. (?)

\---

They hung out and things sort of stopped. 

They didn't stop having fun, hell most nights they ended up hunched over grabbing at whatever they could as they laughed their asses over whatever trouble they had gotten themselves into and, miraculously, out of as well. They just stopped with the touching. It was weird really. Mark reasoned with himself that it was just him becoming actual true friends with Tom. (he would let the word friend slide from his mouth easily as he threw his words over his shoulder at his mother's question of who he was hanging out with. 'My friend.' 'What friend? That freshman kid?' 'Yeah, mom, his name is Tom' 'Be safe!' 'Hmmm') And Tom stopped making long eye contact or hinting at blowing Mark. Mark assumed it was because of Jen. Mark stopped making advances and sliding his hand gradually from Tom's chest to the bottom of his jeans when they were alone. Tom didn't seem like he cared too much-- probably getting his rocks off from Jen. So in return Mark pretended he didn't care too much either. 

Mark pushed that out of his mind. it didn't matter to him. He drowned his feelings out with smoking and drinking, which he now quite exclusively did with Tom (which made things difficult, as sometimes emotions were harder to rein in with your mind loosened and your lungs always on the breath of saying what you're trying to hold back).

The senior could also tell Tom was hanging out with Jen more. He had his first girlfriend, it would have been weird if he didn't. Mark didn't feel like joking about the first time he saw a bloom of purple sneaking out from under the collar of Tom's shirt. Mark wanted to forget it was there. He hated himself for the sick feeling weighing inside him. He would push it all aside and laugh at Tom's impression of Sally. 

\--

Tom thought upon the feel the sun or rain or hail on our skin before we truly know. that sometimes we have to just wait and see for ourselves first hand. 

the weatheran wasrong it didnt come  
toms unused money weighed in his pocket  
hanging out…… nON SEXUAL… uhhh 

\--

If life had a foot, it would be repeatedly kicking Mark in the balls. 

Things (Mark’s emotional state) were rocky by the end of the year, as Mark continued to open small envelopes addressed to him from the colleges that were supposed to be his ticket away from the hole that is bumfuck Poway. He spent his whole four years in highschool watching siblings of friends and then friends themselves not make it out of the city and into a college (preferably out of state or at a minimum a few hours away), and they seem to exist now static in a town that is preferable for old folks homes and bright and shining newlyweds. Dropping his head to the kitchen table with a groan, Mark couldn’t believe he would be one of those-- stuck with his parents. Stuck in his hometown. Stuck when his life was supposed to move forward. There’s no exciting future for a newly graduated 19 year old who finally gets the chance to break out of the ‘poway bubble’ and fucks it all over by not getting accepted anywhere. The frustration was overwhelming. The hopelessness and overall feeling of incompetence and stupidity didn't help either. Mark slammed his bedroom door with more force than necessary. 

Mark wouldnt admit to anyone that he cried. But he did. 

Graduation was supposed to be happy-- and it was happy for a while. Both his parents were able to make it down and Mark smiled in pictures with them like they didn't make his life a living hell that he used drugs and fucking around with strange women (and men for that matter) to get over. He took pictures with his friends too, all decked out in a semi shine forest-y green graduation robe and hats that he wondered how something so useless looking became a tradition. What was its purpose? Mark thought more on the use of a square hat then how much he would miss the person he had his arms around when the camera flashed. 

He also kept his eyes out for a gangly freshman. Mark didn’t necessarily invite him to his graduation but he assumed he would come anyways because hey, thats what friends do right? Tom would know this was important to him, right? Mark was angry he cared, clenching his hand into a fist intermediately whenever he caught himself thinking about it, worrying about it. And more Mark thought of it the more he realized Tom was more reliable than any other friend he had. Mark winced as he thought about how he treated him in the beginning. 

Mark half smiled when he saw a dark haired head bobbing through the mess of greens and camera flashes and flowered leis around peoples necks.

With all the kicks in the chest from the stream of rejection letters none would compare to Tom's hand intertwined with Jen's.

Marks half smile fell to a strangled grimace and he tried desperately to revive the happy expression before Tom and his girl got  
too close. Mark could see Tom catch his eye, turn to Jen and point at him excitedly. Tom didn't really wait for Jen to see where she was going, just dragged them both through the columns of people, weaving through them and offering "Sorry's" when Tom bumped into some and "Excuse me's" when they awkwardly skirted in between others. 

"Hey Mark!" Tom said once he got in earshot, his cheeks red (like always) and a little breathless. Jen behind him shyly glanced up at the senior. "This is my girlfriend, Jen. Can't believe I've never gotten around to introducing my favorite two people."

Mark let out a squeak and tried valiantly to keep the smile on his face. He cleared his throat.

"Hey Jen, I've heard a lot of great things about you." Bile. He swallows. 

"Oh really?" Jen brightens up and looks at him before sliding her gaze to Tom. "Great things huh?" She takes her hand from  
his and uses both of her hands to poke Tom's side. Tom squirms. So does Mark. 

Tom giggles genuinely and half heartedly tries to stop Jen. Mark genuinely feels like he might be sick and halfhearted my tries to smile. 

"Of course!" Tom finally grabs Jennifer's wrists and stops her. "Only great things." He pulls at her wrists so that she comes closer and Tom pecks her on the top of the head. 

He then turns to Mark. Finally-- he was about to walk away. 

"So how do you feel Mark?" Tom flashed him a smile. But was he really smiling because he was excited that his friend finally graduated? or was he excited because he has a girl hanging off his arm? (Nauseous. Mark thinks bitterly in relation to Tom's question. I feel suddenly nauseous. Like I've eaten too much cheap movie theater popcorn on an empty stomach or just got off a roller coaster that went backwards and I don't do well with backwards roller coasters). Tom didn't let Mark have the time to come up with a complete lie of an answer before he continued. 

"Look at you! off to probably some huge pretentious college out of state." Mark still hadn't told him he's a fuck up and didn't get in anywhere. "How are you going to be able to go a whole semester without a California burrito?" 

Mark laughed, albeit shakily he thought. (How would he have survived a semester without Tom? He tried to keep that thought away from the forefront of his mind as it scratched and struggled to be heard.) 

"Uh yeah..." He scratched the back of his head, undecided with what he should say next or how he should steer the conversation to safer waters. 

He didn't have to as Tom smiled brightly and suddenly brought him in for a hug. Have they done this before? This quite common gesture-- but have they touched each other this way? 

"I'm so excited for you!" Tom squeezed Mark with a strength that was hidden in his lengthy arms. Mark could only let out a squeak in reply. He gingerly wrapped his arms around Tom and looked over his shoulder to see Jen kindly smiling back at him. Happy for her boyfriend's good friend. Fuck. 

He parts from Tom and must of had a troubled look in his eye, as Tom tilts his head in a questioning manner. Mark's eyes flick over Tom's shoulder to Jen.

"Hey," He pulls Tom aside a little bit rougher than he really needed to. He couldn't help it. The thought was clinging to his head- to the pads of his fingers and itched at his lips and his tongue and his groin: When was the last time he's touched tom? Not sexually, just casually even? "I'm going to ditch grad night, smoke a little and just chill. You up for it?" 

Tom gave a polite smile (it looked forced), like talking to an aunt who just invited you to a 6am Sunday service. You couldn't really be rude when they just mean well. 

"Nah," He replied, glancing over where the two boys had left Jen standing. "Maybe next time though?" 

Mark grip faltered as Tom made his way back to Jen. Tom looked over his shoulder, "Congrats on graduating Hoppus!" 

Mark lifted a heavy hand and waved as Jen lead her boy back among the mass of graduates and their celebrations. 

The rest of the night slurred along in a hazed, shocked condition. No one really payed attention to Mark, picked up on how his ribs dried concrete- his chest robbed of it's ability to expand and take a deep breath. 

Mark wouldnt admit to himself; but he wanted to cry. He didn't let himself. 

Once home, he got stoned off his ass (for the first time in months since he met Tom: completely alone. He had bought enough weed for both of them to get a pretty nice high, but without Tom Mark just smoked it all.) He got so high he couldn't move, he felt that he didn't need to move because everything and everyone else around him was moving fast enough for him. He thought of the moving lives of his classmates and his family and Tom. He wanted for everything to stop. And he laid still from the weight of the drug in his lungs and in his blood. His eyes watered from the smoke. (Just the smoke, Mark convinced himself.)

He can't remember if he passed out or just dreamed anxiously about staring at his ceiling, thinking about Tom.

he thought of the moving lives of his classmates and his family and tom.  
and he layed still from the weight of the drug in his lungs and in his blood. 

\----

Summer hits Mark with the glaring reminder that he's stuck in this town for what feels like the rest of his life. It sticks to his skin like the sweat he wakes up with every morning as he gets up to pull the blinds down in a futile attempt to sink back down into his bed and try to fall asleep again in the stifling heat. He never does fall asleep after he gets up that first time. 

His fingers feel stiff from plucking at his bass, too many hours with not much to do. In the event of Tom splitting his time between him and his girlfriend (he couldn't stand the idea of hanging out with both Jen and tom. the looks that they would share; couples are nauseatingly disgusting anyways, but with the added variable of Tom.... Third wheeling wasn't something Mark Hoppus did anyways.) he realized he didn't truly hang out with anyone else. (He tried hanging out with his friends; it sounded pathetic  
but nothing compared. After being understood and listened to and laughed at and with nothing seemed to compare.) 

People liked him well enough in high school, it was just they were never really close to him. Mark didn't have many close friends, just a lot of people who looked up to him and knew about him; from his wild hair, the way he sometimes wore eyeliner, the popular jokes he cracked and the not-so popular jokes he cracked. He was a deviant character but very likeable, both students and teachers. No one really got as close to him as Thomas Delonge did in those few months though. And now that high school was over and people flocked to their closer friends, Mark was left as well with just his closest friends; his bass and the occasional late night out with Tom. 

Which was enough for him he guessed. As long as Mark kept Jen out of his mind when he was with Tom, everything was fine. When he didn't look at Tom's hand and imagine them intertwined with Jen's, everything was fine. When he didn't glance at Tom when he licked his lips and imagined him licking into Jen's mouth, everything was fine. 

But it was hard to think that everything was fine. What was Mark doing? Moping over some 16 year old just because he's has someone to hold and Mark doesn't? 

Mark tried to get physical with other people (He didn't feel the need romantic, he just needed a release, given that tom was his usual source of release and he was getting no release from tom.) it didn't work out very well, didn't feel the same. Sometimes he felt even worse afterwards.

Mark couldn't fake the smile that fractured across his face whenever Tom would open the car slump down in his passenger seat. He would smile right back at Mark, newly braceless teeth. (Mark mouth gaped a little bit, brain a little wobbly as it tried to comprehend) His legs would be lengthened from summer. His soft hair lighter (he had watched tom's hair grow long and get cut and then continue to grow long once again), his features sharper than when Mark first met him. 

Oh-- Mark was so oblivious. Tom's growing up too. 

\----

They went to the beach at night in late June. The sky hung low and a slight fog gave an opacity to the lights of the highway as they drove along the wildlife reserve of Torrey pines. Mark kept both hands on the wheel.

"Hey pass me my cigarettes," Mark asked. The ride up until then was uninterrupted by their voices, filled by the noise of songs that reminded them of each other (because they listened to them so much while together).

"You really got to stop smoking these," Tom remarked but started to rummage through the storage unit that sat between them. 

Mark grunted in what could have been an agreement or a stubborn refusal- Tom couldn't tell and was too afraid of the answer to ask. "It's in the glove compartment," 

Tom closed the compartment he was looking through and popped open the glove compartment in front of him, quickly reaching in and retrieving a white box. 

"Ta-da!" He lifted the cigarette box up with one hand and put his other hand flat underneath it, selling it like the models tom has seen on the price is right. 

Mark glanced over from the road at Tom and rolled his eyes at him, but his eyes were light with amusement and mouth quirked upwards. He looked back at the road. 

"Do you want me to light it for you?" Tom asked, taking the lid off the box to reveal Marks row of addictions.

Mark shrugged. "Lighters in there too," He referred to the glove compartment. Tom took it as a yes. 

Tom cupped a hand over his mouth. "Three, two, one," He grabbed a cigarette and lifted it from where it rested among the others, complete with rocket ship sounds. "Huston to Mark's mouth-- the cancer causing agent is in the air! I repeat-- the gross cigarette is in route to it's even grosser destination!" 

Tom flew the cigarette through the air to Mark's mouth. "Oh-pen wi-ide!" Tom said in a sing song voice. 

Mark huffed like he was annoyed but opened his mouth. Tom placed the tobacco in his mouth and Mark's teeth took a hold of it before Tom let his hand go. He really wasn't annoyed. 

Mark rolled the cigarette to the side of his mouth and Tom held the lighter under and flicked at it until the fire caught. Mark took a deep breath and enjoyed the taste at the back of his throat before blowing it directly in Tom's face. 

"What the fuck man?" Tom tried to wave the smell away, Mark chucked around his smoke and blew another lungful at him. 

Tom clutched his neck and coughed dramatically. "You're killing me!" He wheezed, one hand grappling at the door to roll down the window and the other fisting itself on the sleeve of Mark's shirt. 

Mark smirked and rolled up Tom's window, laughing at the desperate clicks coming from Tom's door in his desperate attempt to roll down the window once more.

"Stoppp," Tom whined, "I have to cover for you all the time when my mom asks why I smell like smoke so much," 

"Aw poor Tommy," Mark said wiggling a finger into Tom's side. "I'm sorry you have to lie to your mommy, I know that's still a big deal for you," Mark looked at him and smiled wider, the bridge of his nose wrinkling when he saw Tom squirming away from his finger and batting Marks hand aside. 

"Mark!" Tom giggled, breathing heavily from laughing, finally having grabbed Mark's wrist. "Stop being such a fag." 

Mark's mouth dropped before he closed it again, removing his hand from Tom's grip a little shakily as he focused back on the road. The headlights of Mark's car flooding the asphalt in front of them with a old yellow light. Mark steeled his emotions with a clearing of this throat and took another inhale of his cigarette. He blew the smoke out the window. 

Turning into a parking spot right on the beach, Mark opened the door abruptly and got out, leaving a confused Tom struggling at his seatbelt before unhooking it and getting out of the car to follow Mark down the stone ledge into the sand. 

"Can you get my backpack from the backseat," Mark said flatly to Tom, not looking over his shoulder. 

The boys had caught the beach empty as Mark stepped through the dips made through other people's feet throughout the day. He could hear glass hitting glass in his backpack before he heard Tom's uneven panting breath beside him as he caught through the sand to catch back up with Mark. The air around then hung tense even though the wind was brisk. 

Tom tried to grasp at the tension in the air but it slipped through his fingers. The sand beneath his toes provided for little support as they kicked up the grains to keep up with the older boy. 

They walked along the water, the land to the left of them starting to stretch up into the sky as a vertical cliff. They passed by a lifeguard tower. 

"What about this," Mark motioned to the tower, breaking the silence. 

Tom nodded in agreement, still feeling weary about talking. He didn't want to mess up anymore, wanted the smile to return to Mark's face-- he hasn't seen if much recently and it had felt good to just relax and joke around with his best friend. But Mark had already started to make his way up to the blue structure, so he had missed Tom's gesture. 

The younger boy watched as Mark heaved himself up the chrome shined latter, and followed suit. Mark dropped himself on the ground, back facing the abandoned tower and hands lying limply in his lap. 

Tom carefully placed the heavy backpack down between them, and then say with his legs crossed with Mark, facing the ocean as it broke against the shore and darkened against the horizon. 

They sat silent for a while, listening to the continuous waves and watching the headlights from a few miles away and hearing the spare plane fly in or out. (everything was so busy-- busy busy busy.) They enjoyed the stillness of each other in the slightly strained atmosphere that lingered in the air that Tom had tip toed around, still not knowing the boundaries of how he could press his older friend. 

A zipper sounded as Mark opened up his dark backpack and brought out a beer. He opened it with a practiced ease and brought it to his lips. Before he tilted his head back he glanced at Tom.

"Go ahead," He motioned to the opened bag where the rest of the beer bottles lay. 

Tom could feel Mark watching his every move as he reached inside the backpack to grasp at a beer. The hair on the back of his head itched like he was preparing himself for an outburst that never came. 

Mark tilted his head back and swallowed a few mouthfuls of the alcohol. he hated it. it was some fizzy fruity little overpriced shit that mark would have never bought on his own. it lingered in the corners of his mouth strangely. But mark remembered how tom once commented positively on the taste, how it was fizzy and sweet on his tongue and slid smoothly down his throat. Mark still hated it. but he bought it for tom and didn't mention how he turned his face away to screw it up in disgust over the first few mouthfuls. 

Sitting on the slightly damp lifeguard tower, their silence became looser as they were finishing their second beer. 

"So... how's college? You excited?" Tom finally managed to ask a question, hopefully one that would raise Marks spirits and get him in a talkative mood. 

Mark frowned and his eyebrows furrowed. "I didn't get into any." He finally let the announcement drop like a rock into water-- sinking straight down the to bottom. 

Tom started at him for further explanation. He knew there was none once Mark rose the bottle up to his lips again, throat moving. Marks lip curled slightly with the aftertaste. 

"you're kidding me." Tom said flatly. Worried but maybe a little pissed that mark never told him. 

"no tom, I'm not fucking kidding you." Mark retorted a little sharply. Tom knew it was from his own bitterness about himself not making it then what tom was asking.

“Why didnt you tell me?” Concern leaked through toms words. 

“I dont knwo. I feel stupid” Matk hung his head slightly, the honest sentences dipping viscously like syrup from his mouth and onto floor. “I probably am stupid." His voice hardened. "same reason i didnt get into ANY COLLEGE.” Mark raises his voice, yells the last two words, full of frustration and bitterness and self loathing and all the things mark has been feeling but has never said a word to anyone else.

tom doesn't know what to say, so he says nothing. They both sit and listen to the night recover after it feels like its been split in two from marks outburst.

“Im sorry,” Tom feels its safe to atleast say that. 

Tom can hear a sniff coming from mark. it startles him. 

“Yeah its whatever.” Mark chokes out through a tight throat. He curses himself for being so emotional about something so dumb. 

There's some movement in the dark and tom can make out from the corner of his eye mark wiping at his face. was mark wiping a tear? fuck he must be going through some rough times and tom hasn't even tried to think about him. He's had so much on his mind, thought Mark was so stable. it's not as if mark told him otherwise or let his feelings slip through the cracks in hints that he was hurting bad.

“Can you hand me another beer?” Tom glanced over to mark at his question and eyed his friend wearily. One of marks palms were planted in a closed eye, the other hand reaching out for another beer.

tom reached in and grabbed a neck of one, then passed it to mark. His hand lingered when marks closed around the beer and over hisown fingers, tom told himself he was doing it to be certain that mark had a hold on the bottle, but in actuality the boy wanted to make sure that he was okay. That his hand wasn't trembling too much and could steady the drink. 

Tom listened to mark open the beer with a release of air pressure, and then the subsequent swallowing of marks throat as he drank. He gulped the liquid down in an attempt to forget. 

"You know im really sorry mark," Tom started quietly once he could see the dark shape of Mark drop his arm that was holding the beer to his side and stared out into the shore. "you could have told me though.” 

“yeah i know,” mark said so quietly if tom didn't see his lips move tom could have thought he made marks words up. 

another moment “Theres nothing you can really do about it now.”

Tom pauses for a moment, “We could get a good buzz and skinny dip” mark doesnt react “comee onnn markkkk i know you jump at any chance to be naked” tom can see a smile creep up marks face and his cheeks twitch in an attempt to dampen a smile.

from under his hands  
“Alright good," Tom said excitedly, knowing that he had won Mark over. "because im already feeling the alcohol!” starts to take off his shirt 

Mark opens the next beer, chugs the rest “fuckin lightweight” mutters 

tom stumbles out of his pants and grabs the side railing of the tower as he loses his balance. worry flashes through mark at the thought of tom stumbling off the edge, and he watches tom make his way down the latter, giggling in his boxers. 

"Come on mark!" The teen yells from below in the sand, turning around and pulling his boxers down to shake his bare ass at mark. 

Mark places the bottle down against the other empty ones and stands up. Too suddenly- the world shifts and he quickly grabs the railing to steady himself.

Once the world stops spinning (more like his head stops spinning, the world never stops really, as mark is constantly reminded of that little fact), he leaps down into the sand with a smile. 

"Cover that up tom no one wants to be blind sighted by that," Mark joked, referencing toms Lilly white ass, making quick work of his own clothes by pulling his pants and shirt off. 

Mark finally pulled his boxers down and stepped out of them, forcing himself not to look when out of the corner of his eye he knew tom was doing the same. what was the big deal? mark has seen handfuls of dicks more impressive then toms, and yet he was nervous and overthinking what was happening now. He forced himself to ignore the feeling. He always got a different feeling from Tom then he normally would get in the same situation with any of his other friends, and he didn't know why. It was beginning to piss mark off. He shook his head once to try and physically clear his mind of the thought.

"I'm ready!" Mark smiled wide, standing up straight and lifting his arms up like he was a gymnast who had completed a marvelous feat; he really did love being naked, there was a simple hilarity to it and mark always thought that modesty was one of the most overrated things on the planet. 

"There's that little friend of yours!" Tom giggled, pointing at marks crotch. "Hi marky jr.! long time no see! has marks right hand been treating you good?" He put his hands on his knees and bent his back as if he was talking to a toddler.

Mark shifted to the side and jokingly pulled up one leg like a shy virgin. "Stoppppp it's a touchy subject for little marky," 

Ton laughed loudly at marks gesture and his mock embarrassed voice and mark kicked some sand up at him. 

"You know it's the left hand anyways," Mark winked jokingly. He glanced over at the sea. "Come on I bet I'll freeze my balls off," He said excitedly as he started to walk to he shore. 

"It's not like you'll need them anyways," Tom joked as he ran by Mark, feet starting to splash in the ocean. 

"Hey!" Mark yelled after him, starting to run as well. "Fuck you!" He retorted, not able to think of a better come back as he followed tom, picking up his feet higher than normal to reduce the drag in the water as he ran into the sea. 

Mark was amazed at how his spirit had lifted, thinking maybe toms favorite shitty alcohol actually did him good. Or maybe tom did him good. Toms chest warned at seeing mark happy once more and for being the reason behind it. 

The waves weren't as cold as both boys thought it was going to be and there was a thrill and an unmistakable feeling of joy bubbling in both of them that came from the waves hitting them in places that were usually covered, the freeness and just how primally natural it felt. It urged them onwards over the breaking water. 

in the waves and ocean they began laughing and splashing at each other and talking about how eachothers mothers (and fathers, sisters--dogs even) would be gaping at their beautiful ('Greek god-esk' tom would emphasize) bodies. The splashing and laughing paused for a moment as they kicked their feet underneath themselves to keep them afloat. They had gone far enough out where they were past the breaking waves. Mark stared at the horizon, the unending line of sea and marveled at how his eyes failed to notice the curve of the earth and how massive it was and how small he is-- they were, out in the dark of the stretching body of water that lay out before them. He turned to Tom who had fallen silent. The buzz of the excitement of stripping and running full sprint at the surf and paddling out to the ocean through the waves died died down as tom looked seriously at Mark. 

"Mark?" Tom didn't give his friend a chance to respond, "I don't think you're stupid." He said simply.

Mark looked over at tom once he realized what his friend had said. He didn't know how that could have made him feel any better about the subject, but somehow it did. 

"Thanks," The older boy thought that wasn't the greatest of responses to something so sincere, thought it lacked something, but it was all he could get out. He turned back to the endless horizon as to not stare too long at Tom. 

Toms silver outlined body from the three quarter full moon swam a little closer, his bony shoulders and prominent collarbones. water sloshed over his neck but tom continued to hold his head above the sea level. 

"...Mark?" Tom tried again, this time waiting for Mark to respond, uncertain. 

"Hm?" Mark humed, not wanting to look at Tom again, thinking too much. 

"Mark look at me," Tom half pleaded, Mark obliged. Toms face was married by a frown and his brown eyes sad as he stared up from his eyelashes at mark. "I'm sorry..." he started 

"You already told me you're sorry, there's nothing you can--" Mark was cut off

"No not about that," Tom said a little too loudly. The waves in the distance roared on the shore as tom paused. 

Toms lips hardened his mouth in a line. He wet them, opened his mouth, then closed it again, thinking. Mark curiously waited patiently, both of the boys rising up and down with the swells.

"Back in the car... I'm sorry I--" He swallowed in between his words. "What I called you, I'm... I really shouldn't have."

Mark felt weird that he was so hurt about what tom had said (he thought tom was his friend, that he would know he assosicates that /word/ with being inferior and picked upon and the endless nights of thinking about why he even tries everyday to be himself and to love himself when nobody else does. he thought tom would somehow understand all of that when mark never uttered a word to tom about that himself. it was weird that he held tom to such a standard, kind of sophomoric and very much wishful thinking) and didn't want to think about it anymore then he had to. He wanted to forget.

"Tom-"

"No wait," tom interrupted, "please just let me finish. I'm real sorry. I-I didn't think and it was really stupid of me... considering- since I- I do, um.. I'm just, I think I'm gay too." Tom let his words spill out onto the surface of the ocean like if he didn't say them now they were going to be stuck in the back of his throat forever (like a popcorn kernel, but worse. and probably a little bit more gay) and Mark stared back at him, surprised at the sudden confession. "I- I mean," Tom backtracked, "I guess bisexual because.. like, obviously, uh Jen and all that." He continued to ramble nervously as mark swam silently. "You're- youre, mark, you are the only one I've told and I figure you should, uh, be the first to know because you're my best friend and all, and its kind of gnarly that I haven't told you already of all people....and I'm, hah, I'm guessing you probably already know, I mean guessed, uh, because of-- yeah, that, like what we used to-- um yeah it was probably pretty obvious and-"

"we're fine. thanks tom." Mark reached out a little and put his hand on toms shoulder. "thanks for telling me too," 

"we're fine? are you sure" all of toms stress leaked out from his face and he looked surprised at marks calm acceptance to what tom believed to be the biggest wall(?)in his life right now.

"yeah I'm sure dickface" Mark flicked his hands towards tom to splash water in his face. The younger boy sputtered and wiped his hand over his face before smiling brightly back at marks slightly lifted mood, even though the salt in the water stung drily in toms eyes.

When the cold of the water outweighed the thrill of being naked in the water, they both agreed it was late and swam back. Mark thought upon the things that Tom had told him, the simple pieces of words ('I'm gay,' 'I don't think you're stupid', 'best friend') and how they had such an effect on Mark. Soon the wet sand under both of the boys feet let them walk, rather than swim, the rest of the way. 

The water dripped off of them as they made their way towards their littering of clothes by the lifeguard tower. The offshore wind hit places usually covered and they felt exposed in a entirely different way. Mark made sure to look Tom in the eye when Tom turned to make remarks as they dried themselves off the best they could and dressed, (although it wasn't hard to see the full body of tom in the moonlight, even if Mark's eyes never strayed down farther than his neck) Tom seemed to do the same.

"I don't know if we should drive home," Tom started, watching Mark as he made his way up the lifeguard tower. "I'm still- atleast- I still am feeling it." 

Mark glanced over his shoulder at Tom with questioning eyes. 

"Maybe, we should- uh, sleep it off." Tom pulled at his fingers. "I mean, your car is warm enough right?" 

A slight smile pulled at Mark's mouth as he reached down to pick up the empty bottles and put them back into his backpack. 

"Yeah," Mark agreed. "If you're so concerned about safety." He joked, lightly mocking tom. 

"Hey!" Mark couldn't see it but knew Tom was blushing. 

"Here, catch," Mark said, throwing the full backpack down to him so tom couldn't have the time to defend himself.

Tom caught it with a oof and the sound of clanking class. Mark wobbly made his way back down the latter probably a little too fast for his intoxication level. 

As much at Mark teased him 

They waited until their buzz died down in the early morning and drove home to the sunrise, the fog refusing to lift in the crevices of the moutians, like the bitter hops Mark could still taste in the corners of his mouth. Marks heart softened when he glanced at the spry boy sleeping so soundly with his neck kinked at an angle that most people shouldn't be able to sleep in. A slight rumble of a snore slipped out with every of toms exhales. His hands drooped half clenched in sleep and marks attrention was brought to the boys caluses from playing guitar and his knobby joints and s


End file.
